


A World, Aligning

by ryssabeth



Series: Situational Irony [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 00:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryssabeth/pseuds/ryssabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire puts his foot in his mouth--repeatedly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A World, Aligning

“You look like you could use something,” a murmur above him says. And so Enjolras looks up from his textbook (the words had been running together anyway) and he arches a brow at Grantaire, standing with his hands tucked in his pockets.

“And what, pray tell, is that?” Grantaire is Marius’ friend, and Enjolras has been seeing more and more of him lately as everyone gets together to study for finals after classes.

“My phone number,” he says casually, but his hands don’t come out from his pockets, belying the not-casualness of the gesture.

“Do I?” Enjolras places his chin in his hand. “Sell it to me. Why do I want your phone number, Grantaire, friend to Marius, Classics major with a penchant for booze?”

“Did you read that off my dating profile?” The question is so dryly asked that almost can’t keep his face straight. “Well, first of all, I’ve been waiting two weeks to use that stupid line on you, so would you really defeat my efforts like that?” He holds up two fingers then, “Secondly, it’s not like I’m asking you to commit to a relationship, merely commit to an exchange of what today’s youth calls _digits_.”

Enjolras snorts, covering his mouth with his hand to smother laughter, coughing with the effort. “Today’s _youth?_ Barring _you_?”

“If I wanted to ask you for number in such a crude fashion, I would have said, _hey, can I get them digits_ , but, obviously, I have some class—and also, had to grow a spine. This entire conversation is making me feel like a tool—so you can either say _gee, yes, Grantaire, you can totally have my phone number_ or say _no, thanks, you’re weirding me out_.”

“No in-between options?” (Enjolras has only regarded Grantaire in passing interest before—and has noticed, on occasion, his ability to stick his foot in his mouth even before he speaks. And yet—) “No trial-period?”

“Nope,” Grantaire looks away, toward the bookshelves, with a hesitant smile on his face. “You can either give me false hope or destroy my dreams. Sorry.”

“That’s terribly unfair.”

“It’s also unfair for you to go walking around with that halo you call _hair_ all day, but you don’t see me complaining.” He ducks his head, and begins to shift his weight from foot to foot. Enjolras tilts his head, regarding him. “But no, it’s really okay. Whatever. I just thought I ought to ask—you know?” He takes a step away from the table where Enjolras sits—

—and Enjolras say, simply, “wait,” before picking up the pen sitting on his closed notebook (he’d stopped taking notes an hour before).

Grantaire waits.

“Give me your hand.”

Grantaire holds out his hand, palm up.

He gets half out of his seat, taking Grantaire’s wrist and placing the tip of the pen against his palm (working it back and forth to make sure it writes against the skin) before scribbling his number there. He drops the pen atop the notebook, leaning back in his seat.

And he watches Grantaire inspect his palm. “Huh,” he says.

“Huh,” Enjolras replies.

“I didn’t think you’d give me your number.”

“The world is full of surprises—now _I_ have to study.” Grantaire bows, overdone and with a dramatic flare, and he tucks his hands into his back pockets and wanders away between the bookshelves, humming quietly under his breath.

 **+0133290065:** You might regret this decision.

 **+0133290065:** But we shall see.

 **+0133290065:** And so on to part 2

 **+0133290065:** Do you want to go for coffee?


End file.
